


her stage

by laikaspeaks



Series: FE3H Drabble Collection [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Mild sensuality, Petra/Dorothea if you squint, Post-Time Skip, magic music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21556192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laikaspeaks/pseuds/laikaspeaks
Summary: Dorothea is a gifted Dancer. Sometimes it feels like the magic moves her and not the other way around.AKA: The Dancer class is OP.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary
Series: FE3H Drabble Collection [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553494
Comments: 10
Kudos: 35





	her stage

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I just wanted to play with how the dancer class works... and also I am gay. That's literally all that motivated this my dudes.

The beat pounded relentlessly in Dorothea’s head, drawing her hips into a torturous sway whether she wanted it or not. It reverberated in her chest, in her ears, in her mouth, leaving even the sound of battle a dull distraction. Her voice lifted in accompaniment, pure and sharp as the blade half-forgotten at her hip.

“Dorothea, now!” Byleth’s voice cut through the noise.

Dorothea lifted her hands deliberately to one side of her head, a mote of magic drawing to a darkly glowing point between her palms. She clapped twice in time with the music only she could hear, and the sound reverberated through the air. In the same moment Petra - at her side as always - took off in a blur of color and motion, her sword drawing blood into arcs of red. Several bodies fell in her wake, but Dorothea barely saw them.

“Many thanks!” Petra called from a distance, lifting her sword in a jaunty salute.

“No problem.” Dorothea shot Petra a wink. Then she let her head drop back, sliding a hand down from her collarbone, trailing her own side all the way down to the outside of her thigh. Even from here she could see Petra flush, tearing her eyes away only because the battle moved in her direction. A violin shrieked a warning, and a sword missed Dorothea by a half-beat. She retaliated with a practiced spin that sent her sword sliding under the enemy soldier’s ribs, her blade crackling with concentrated power. She yanked her sword free and in the same motion jammed the pommel into the stomach of another trying to sneak up behind. Only a fool would attack her directly - but then, had any of them seen something like her before? 

She wasn't sure this power was worth turning something she loved into a weapon. It would be better if she hated it - if this kind of battle didn’t light something searing bright and violently trembling in her chest. As if she were born to shred her enemies with the power of her voice, to crush them beneath her dancing feet. She whirled and her dark hair and red dress unfurled like the petals of a rose, and her attacker's head went flying under the force of her blow. The orchestra in her veins roared an approving crescendo. 

This was her stage now.


End file.
